


At the Ponds

by exmachinarium



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (2011)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-26
Updated: 2012-07-26
Packaged: 2017-11-10 19:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/469885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmachinarium/pseuds/exmachinarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written during a disastrously hot Summer night for no other reason than to get the image of George and Peter standing over the frozen pond out of my head. No beta, no Brit-picking, first one for this fandom, so many things could go wrong... Still hoping it's at least mildly enjoyable, though.</p>
    </blockquote>





	At the Ponds

**Author's Note:**

> Written during a disastrously hot Summer night for no other reason than to get the image of George and Peter standing over the frozen pond out of my head. No beta, no Brit-picking, first one for this fandom, so many things could go wrong... Still hoping it's at least mildly enjoyable, though.

George took a considerable amount of quiet pride in being, for lack of a better word, a durable man - ready to endure the capricious weather without batting an eyelash. But when the Hampstead Ponds, where he made a habit of swimming whenever there was something distressing on his mind, had frozen over almost completely, he decided to withhold from bathing until the water got marginally warmer.

Standing at the end of the pier now, wrapped in a thick coat and a thicker scarf, he couldn't stop his eyes from stubbornly returning to the black rectangle of water, cut out in the ice for the sake of those few diehard swimming enthusiasts, even though each glance provoked spine-chilling thoughts of the cold, wet substance sloshing around his body - a heavy, blinding, suffocating darkness, muddling the mind rather than clearing it. George shivered slightly, hiding his gloved hands deeper into the coat pockets.

"I fell into one of those once," Peter murmurs beside him and, judging by his rigid stance, his thoughts are not a far cry from Smiley's own. "Winter at my uncle's place, in the countryside. Went to the river with my cousins early in the morning. I had these new ice skates, a Christmas present, and... Well, wanted to show off."

The edge of a self-condescending smirk is visible above the rim of Guillam's coat collar and Smiley wonders briefly whether his companion realizes he speaks aloud. It certainly feels like Peter is talking to himself rather than entertaining his one-person audience.

"It wasn't even that the thin ice cracked underneath me. I simply failed to see that damned fishing hole and dived straight in... I remember that after uncle had fished me out at last, I wasn't even frightened. Just... Incredibly embarrassed." Peter scoffs and shakes his head, chastising his younger self for such irresponsible antics.

Silence falls after that and they both simply keep on standing motionlessly at the end of the wooden pier. Finally, George clears his throat, already sore from the surrounding chill.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Peter?" he asks, eyes finally tearing away from the still, black surface.

"Yes. I'd like that very much."

The spell of the frozen lake is broken by the thoughts of comfort and near-scorching heat prickling at one's fingertips. Both men head back towards Smiley's house in silence, punctuated only by the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet.


End file.
